


Blushing Bride

by bilexualclarke



Series: The 100 Kink Meme 2017 [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Creampie, Cunnilingus, F/M, Oral Sex, They are both consenting adults here, but there is a brief mention of clarke being underage at the beginning, clean-up blowjob, pre-wedding sex because these fuckers cant wait til after the ceremony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2018-10-16 11:49:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10570704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bilexualclarke/pseuds/bilexualclarke
Summary: The door opens. Clarke doesn't turn around, too focused on making sure her eye makeup is perfectly symmetrical, but she knows the sound of his heavy, sure footsteps."They say you're not supposed to see the bride in her dress before the wedding." She caps her eyeliner and puts it down on the vanity table, finally turning on the bench to face him. "It breaks tradition.""We've never been much for tradition, have we?" Bellamy smirks.Written for 100KinkMeme over on LiveJournal.





	1. Chapter 1

The door opens. Clarke doesn't turn around, too focused on making sure her eye makeup is perfectly symmetrical, but she knows the sound of his heavy, sure footsteps.  
  
"They say you're not supposed to see the bride in her dress before the wedding." She caps her eyeliner and puts it down on the vanity table, finally turning on the bench to face him. "It breaks tradition."  
  
"We've never been much for tradition, have we?" Bellamy smirks.   
  
He's right. The first time they fucked had been on her dining room table, when she was seventeen and him twenty-two, while her parents and Octavia had slept upstairs. A pipe had broke at his mother's house and flooded the whole first floor, and  _of course your best friend can stay with us for the week_ , her parents had said. _Her brother, too._ They were charitable people, after all.   
  
He had gotten up in the middle of the night for a glass of water, and Clarke, who had been too worked up by the thought of him sleeping in the guest room just a few feet away, slipped out of bed to follow. She had only been wearing a thin white tank top and a pair of tiny pink panties.   
  
Fast forward eight years later. Clarke is still wearing white, only this time it's her wedding dress. Bellamy stands before her in his tux, looking down at her with love, admiration...and lust.  
  
"The ceremony is going to start in twenty minutes," she reminds him. He shrugs, taking a step closer and cupping her cheek.  
  
"It's not like they can start without us."  
  
Clarke rolls her eyes at that. Bellamy drops his thumb to rub against her lower lip, and she opens her mouth on instinct.  
  
"Good girl," he murmurs appreciatively, and Clarke can't help the way her cunt clenches in anticipation. His eyes darken when her tongue darts out to playfully lick the tip of his thumb.  
  
"We have twenty minutes," she says again, but this time it's a challenge, not a warning. Bellamy squares his shoulders, and Clarke's eyes drop to bulge in the crotch of his tuxedo pants.   
  
"How many times do you think I can make you come in twenty minutes, Princess?"  
  
Clarke's eyes flutter shut at the name, an excited shiver rolling down her spine. Her answer takes too long, and so Bellamy grabs her chin and forces her to look up at him.  
  
"I would be happy with just one, Sir," she answers.  
  
Bellamy frowns. He releases her chin and trails his fingers down the exposed column of her neck. "Just one?" he muses. "No, Princess, that won't do."   
  
His index finger traces the swell of her breasts, amplified and exposed by the sweetheart neckline of her dress. "No, that won't do at all."

 

"I think you're lying," Bellamy says. "You don't want just one orgasm, do you?"  
  
Clarke leans back against the vanity, shaking her head. "No, Sir. I-I want more than one."  
  
"I know you do," he murmurs. "Greedy girl."  
  
He sinks to his knees, placing each hand atop her taffeta-covered thigh. The dress she chose is a princess style because  _of course it is_ , with a billowy but not-too-obnoxious skirt that Bellamy is currently inching up her legs.   
  
"Can you blame me?" Clarke says, her breath hitching when Bellamy finally disappears under her skirt, his teeth grazing along her inner thigh. "You make me feel so good, Sir. Can't get enough."  
  
She feels his big hands slide up her legs and meet at the apex of her thighs, spreading them open. He hisses when he sees her bare pussy, her having forgone any underwear when she was getting ready that morning. She moans when his hot breath hits her cunt, and she cants her hips forward, begging.  
  
"Look at this pretty little pussy," Bellamy says, his voice slightly muffled from beneath her dress. "All pink and wet for me. Should I give it some love, Princess?"  
  
"Please."  
  
He bites down hard on her inner thigh. Clarke yelps, clinging tightly to the edge of the bench she is sitting on.  
  
"Please, Sir," she amends. "Please give my pussy some love."  
  
"Anything for the bride," he says, and then his mouth is on her. Clarke fucking loves it when he eats her out, loves how every time feels as exciting as the first but  _better_ , because after eight years he knows her body better than his own. He knows that starting out with a slow, open-mouthed kiss to her clit is her favorite, and long, hard licks up her slit get her wet the fastest. He knows that she likes it sloppy and wet, that quick lashes and hard sucks on her clit make her come in mere minutes.   
  
"Oh  _yes_ , thank you, Sir," she cries out as he licks up her cum. Her legs shake with the force of her orgasm, and she has a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the bench. She looks at the clock- fourteen minutes. "Can I have another?"

 

Bellamy emerges from beneath her skirt. If they were at home, he would have grabbed a handful of her hair and shoved her face-down into their mattress, then fucked her until she was a trembling, oversensitive mess. If he played his cards right, he might have even been able to make her squirt.

 

But they aren't at home, the clock is ticking, and he knows if he even goes _near_ the elegant updo her hair is in that it will be the last thing he ever does with that hand.

 

So instead, he rises to his feet and works on unfastening his pants. “Turn around. Elbows on the table,” he orders. He takes his cock in his right hand and strokes it slowly as she turns around, resting her elbows on the vanity table and her knees on the bench. She takes care not to kneel on the skirt of her dress, pulling it up so her ass and cunt are on display for him.

 

“My beautiful girl,” Bellamy murmurs, tenderly rubbing the ample flesh of her ass before landing a stinging smack to her skin. She yelps, and he watches her cunt clench around air. “Gonna fuck you now, sweet thing.”

 

“Yes, give it to me,” Clarke sighs. He fists the base of his cock, guiding the head teasingly over her slit, coating himself in her arousal. “Stop teasing, Bell, and fuck me- _oh_!”

 

Their eyes meet in the vanity mirror as he slides inside her, her eyes going out of focus a bit when he bottoms out.

 

“God, Bell, you’re so fucking big,” she moans, dropping her head and rolling her hips, urging him on. “I love it when you fill me up with your cock. Feels so fucking good, baby.”

 

Bellamy wraps his left hand around her throat- not tight enough to constrict her airway or leave a mark, just enough pressure to let her know that he’s there- and she looks back up at him. His right hand grips her hips tightly as he begins to thrust into her, not bothering to work her up slowly before he fucks her in earnest. They maintain eye contact in the mirror, though his dick throbs when he hits her g-spot just right and her eyes roll back in her head.

 

He glances down at where they are joined for a second, and nearly comes at what he sees.

 

“Look at that,” Bellamy chuckles darkly. “You’re creaming all over my cock, Clarke. _God damn_. My dirty girl, so wet for me.” He stares, transfixed by the sight of her white, creamy cum staining his cock. She clenches around him, more viscous fluid dripping out of her cunt.

 

“You fuck me so good, baby, I can’t help it,” Clarke moans, dropping lower so her chest is parallel to the table. Her breasts practically spill out of the top of her dress, and he aches to get his hands on them. But, just like her hair, he knows everything is held very precariously in place, so he moves his free hand elsewhere.

 

He swipes his thumb over his shaft, gathering her copious cream and spreading it over her pink, puckered asshole. Clarke cries out when he slips his thumb in to the first knuckle, not moving it, just giving her a good stretch.

 

“So tight,” Bellamy marvels. He glances up at the clock. Nine minutes. “Wish we had more time, Princess. Wish there was time for me to fuck your ass how you like.”

 

“After?” she asks breathlessly. “Will you do it after?”

 

He pulls her up so that her back is against his chest, pressing a kiss to her temple. He takes his hand away from her ass for a second to make sure her beautiful dress isn’t getting caught between them, but then he’s back, slipping his thick index finger in deeper than before, making her cry out.

 

“Of course, sweet thing,” he murmurs against her hairline. “Whatever you want.”

 

“Oh God. I’m gonna come,” Clarke whines, rocking back against him desperately. He twists the digit in her ass, making her shudder.

 

“Yeah? You gonna come for me with my finger in your ass? Fuck, I’m not even playing with your clit, babe, and you’re still gonna come. I can feel your cunt going all tight around me,” Bellamy rambles. He feels his balls tighten and draw up, heavy with his own cum that he aches to release into the hot warmth of her womb.

 

He fucks into her desperately, and just before she tumbles over the edge his fingers tighten slightly around her throat, grabbing her attention.

 

“Look at me,” he demands, staring at their reflections in the mirror. “Look at me and come.”

 

Their eyes lock, and her cunt clenches around him as she comes with a wordless cry. He follows her over the edge, his own orgasm so powerful that he nearly falls over with the force of it. Clarke slumps over onto the vanity table, whimpering when doing so dislodges his spent cock from her pussy.

 

“Holy fuck,” Bellamy marvels. “Look at the mess you made.”

 

His cock is shiny with her cum, some of the cream gathered at the base and dripping down onto his balls. The crotch of his pants is stained and sticky, too, with him lacking the foresight to take them off completely.

 

“I can’t help it,” Clarke says again, coquettishly.

 

“I know, babe, I know. _Fuck_ , it’s so hot. You wanna clean it up for me?”

 

She bites her lip and nods. Bellamy fists his still half-hard dick and steps in front of her, an offering. She teases him with kitten licks at first, working on cleaning his balls before sucking the length of him like a popsicle. She doesn’t stop until the last bit of her cum is gone and she can no longer taste herself. She even goes as far as to clean off his pants, staring up at him through her eyelashes as she gently tongues at the stain on the fabric.

 

“All done,” she announces, wiping her mouth and leaning back. “My turn?”

 

Bellamy glances at the clock. One minute.

 

“Looks like it’s time for me to go, sweetheart,” he says with a smirk, bending down to drop a surprisingly chaste kiss on her adorably pouted lips. “The show’s about to start.”

 

_Motherfucker._

 

And with that he leaves, ducking out of the room and leaving Clarke at the vanity table, still flushed and sweaty from her orgasm. But before she can even begin to clean herself up, there’s a quick knock at the door and Raven pokes her head in.

 

“It’s time,” her maid of honor says with a bright smile. “Let’s go.”

 

Plastering a smile on her face, Clarke stands. She does her best attempt at a penguin-walk as they move down the hall, careful to keep her legs as close together as possible. She can do this. They wait outside the double doors until it’s time for Raven to go, and once she gets to the top of the aisle the music changes.

 

That’s her cue.

 

Clarke rounds the corner by herself. The church is full of people, and they all stare at her with warm smiles as she slowly makes her way down the aisle.

 

She meets Bellamy’s gaze just as his cum starts to drip down her legs. He smirks, _the bastard_ , knowing exactly what she’s going through.

 

Clarke finally makes it to him, handing her bouquet to Raven and gripping his hands tightly.

 

“Clean up go okay?” he murmurs. She digs her nails into his skin, and he stifles a laugh. 

 

The vows go by quickly, and when Bellamy reads the ones he wrote she manages to forget her frustration and actually tear up, because God knows they drive each other crazy but she loves this man more than anything in the whole world. Before they know it, the priest is announcing them husband and wife and Bellamy swoops her into his arms with a loud cheer.

 

Clarke laughs against his mouth when he dips her exaggeratedly, much to the delight of their friends and family. They walk back down the aisle hand-in-hand, and later, at the reception, Bellamy leans over to whisper in her ear.

 

“Meet me by the coat closet in five minutes.”

 

“Oh yeah?” she whispers back playfully. “What for?”

 

She feels the hand on the small of her back slide lower, resting over the generous curve of her ass.

 

“I have a promise to keep.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [the Bellarke Christmas Calendar 2017](http://bellarke.com/post/168798289170/blushing-bride-pt-ii), even though this has nothing to do with Christmas LOL

Clarke never makes it to the coat closet. Before she can so much as attempt an exit, she is surrounded by hordes of their guests, and before she knows, it half an hour has passed and her vision is spotty from multiple camera flashes, a hundred reiterations of _“Congratulations!”_ ringing in her ears. As she takes picture after picture, she lets her mind wander back to how her and Bellamy began.

 

* * *

  _Eight Years Ago_

* * *

 

Clarke sits up at the sound of heavy footsteps passing her room and heading downstairs. They are distinctively not the tread of either of her parents, and too heavy to belong to Octavia, so that leaves only one option. Her pulse quickens and she bites her lip in excitement. The digital clock on her nightstand reads 1:49 am. Clarke waits a few moments, not hearing the footsteps return, before throwing off the covers and padding down the stairs.

 

There is a thin stream of light stretching from the hardwood floors of the living room into the pale linoleum of the kitchen. She follows it tentatively, peaking her head around the corner and squinting against the brightness of the open refrigerator. The light perfectly silhouettes the broad, muscled frame of the man standing before her, clad in just a pair of dark flannel pajama pants.

 

“Bellamy,” she says softly.

 

He doesn’t turn; he was expecting her.

 

“Clarke.” He grabs a water bottle and shuts the door, pitching the room into near darkness. “You thirsty?”

 

“No.” She steps forward into a stream of moonlight and rests her palms on the cool granite of the kitchen island.

 

“Hungry then?”

 

Clarke considers it for a minute, and then, with a smirk: “Yes.”

 

Bellamy turns at this. His grip on the water bottle tightens, the plastic audibly cracking as his eyes rake over her body. The thin white tank she wears is practically translucent, the soft pink boy shorts she wears underneath clearly visible. The cool breeze from the central air unit pumping above her causes goosebumps to raise across the flesh of her arms, her nipples hardening under the thin fabric of her shirt. He notices.

 

“What are you hungry for?” he asks, his voice several pitches lower. Clarke bites her lip; they had been dancing around each other for weeks, playing a dangerous game ever since he had walked in on her in her underwear while her and Octavia were getting ready for their senior prom. Clarke knows that she has been in love with him since she was thirteen, but she never in her wildest dreams thought her best friend’s older brother would ever feel for her an inkling of what she does for him.

 

Well, now is her time to find out. Or be totally humiliated.

 

“You,” she says, proud of the way her voice stays steady, even though her hands are trembling.

 

Bellamy drops the water bottle on the counter and takes a step towards her. “Is that right, Princess?”

 

The heat in his voice is promising, as is the way he licks his lips after her nickname settles in the air.

 

“Yes,” she whispers, stepping around the island and standing directly in front of him. She squares her shoulders and looks up at him, not shying away from his dark, intense gaze. “I-I’ve wanted you for a long time, Bellamy, and I think you want me, too.”

 

“You think?”

 

“I _know_.”

 

Bellamy moves suddenly, his hands gripping her waist tightly as he lifts her onto the countertop of the kitchen island. The warmth of his hands is a sharp contrast to chill of the granite on the exposed skin of her ass.

 

“You want this?” he murmurs, sliding his hands down to rest atop her thighs. “You want me to fuck you right here? Play with your sweet little pussy while everyone is asleep upstairs?”

 

“Yes,” Clarke gasps. He drags his middle finger over the crotch of her panties, smirking when he feels the dampness of the fabric. “Yes, Bell, please fuck me.”

 

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he teases, dragging his finger upward over her stomach. The hem of her shirt catches on his finger as he moves higher, exposing the soft undersides of her breasts, stopping just short of her nipples. “That would be awfully scandalous of us, don’t you think?”

 

“I don’t care. I want you.” Clarke takes the initiative and rips the flimsy tank over her head. Bellamy’s jaw goes slack when her breasts are fully bared to him, his hands twitching towards them instinctively.

 

“Please, Bellamy,” she says softly. “Touch me.”

 

That is all the invitation he needs. Bellamy bends forward, pressing her back against the countertop and bringing his face to her gorgeous tits. He sucks one nipple into his mouth, laving it gently with his tongue while his fingers tug at the other. Clarke brings both hands to the back of his head and clutches him closer. She had been dreaming about this for months—years, even. She clenches her thighs, desperate for a bit of friction, but Bellamy removes yanks them apart. Her responding whine is silenced when he bends down so her cunt is at eye-level, still covered by her flimsy panties.

 

“You ever let anyone taste you, Princess?” he asks, hooking his index finger around the elastic band of her underwear. Clarke shakes her head as she lifts her lips, letting him drag them down her legs. As soon as they are off his hands are there, smoothing over her inner thighs and spreading her legs wide enough for his broad shoulders to fit between them.

 

“No,” she breathes. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, moaning at the heady smell of her cunt. “I’ve never even…”

 

“No one’s ever fucked this gorgeous pussy?” Bellamy drags his index finger over her slit, gathering the copious wetness there before bringing the finger to his mouth, moaning at the taste of her. “I get to be the first?”

 

“Yes.” Clarke’s hips lift up towards him, chasing his touch. “It’s just you, Bellamy. Only you.”

 

“God damn,” he swears, licking his lips. “ _Shit_ , Clarke.” Before she can say anything else, he brings his mouth to her cunt, and all hope of rational thought is out the window.

 

“ _Fuck_!” Clarke whines, her back arching off the countertop. He starts with gently licking her clit, coaxing it out from its protective hood. As her moans get louder, he uses his thumb to rub circles around the sensitive bud, focusing his attention on the sweet well of her cunt. He fucks her with his tongue first, and even then, he can feel how tight her walls are around him.

 

When she comes, he can feel her juices drip down his chin, and the sound of her moans nearly does him in, too.

 

“Holy shit, Princess,” he gasps, rubbing tight circles over her clit as he leans up to capture her lips. He vaguely realizes that it is the first time they’ve kissed, and she is quite literally licking her own cum from his lips. “Gonna fuck you now, okay?”

 

“Please.” Clarke leans back again, spreading her legs wider and waiting for him to step out of his pajama pants. But he takes her by surprise, instead scooping her into his arms and spinning around to pin her against the wall. Her legs wrap around his waist on instinct, her arms draped over his muscled shoulders. He uses one hand to shove his pants down just enough to free his cock, and Clarke gasps at the sight.

 

She has watched enough porn to know what a penis looks like, but seeing one for the first time is still a shock, especially one that looks…like _that_. Bellamy’s cock long and thick, weeping precum at the tip, and the sight inexplicably makes her mouth water. She knows he’s going to give her cunt a delightful stretch, but she wants to feel him in her throat, too.

_All in due time._

 

“You ready, baby?” Bellamy asks, kissing down the length of her throat. His hands are firmly grasping her thighs, keeping her cunt positioned just above his cock. When hums in agreement, he guides her so that the tip of his cock catches on her clit, and she keens.

 

“I want your words, Clarke. Let me hear you.”

 

“I’m ready- _oh_!” The words are barely out of her mouth before he lowers her onto his cock. He goes slowly, but the stretch is still enough to make Clarke’s breath catch and her toes curl. Once he is halfway inside of her, he stops.

 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, resting his forehead on top of hers. “Feels amazing, baby.”

 

“More,” is all she can gasp, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Please, give me more.”

 

She can practically hear his smirk. “You got it, Princess.”

 

Bellamy lowers her further onto him, not stopping until his coarse pubic hair tickles the inside of her thighs. She sighs when he bottoms out inside of her, never having felt this full before. She can already feel another orgasm building, stronger than before.

 

And then Bellamy finally starts to move. His thrusts are slow and tender, letting her get used to the feel of him. She appreciates it for the first minute or so, but once she grows accustomed to the feeling of his cock, she taps her foot against his lower back.

 

“You’re not going to break me, you know,” she teases. Bellamy arches an eyebrow.

 

“You sure about that?”

 

Clarke smirks. “Try me.”

 

His eyes darken, and a thrill shoots up her spine. _Game on,_ she thinks.

 

Bellamy repositions her so that his hands are firmly gripping her ass, her calves propped up on his shoulders. There is a slight burn in her quads, but she can barely feel it over the incredible feeling of him pounding into her, hitting her g-spot over and over again.

 

“Oh my God, _Bellamy_!” she moans. “Yes, _fuck_! Right there! _Fuuuck,_ you’re going to make me come again!”

 

“Yeah?” he growls. “Do it, baby. Fucking come all over my cock. I can feel you getting all tight around me. _Fuck_. Let go, Princess. Let me feel it.”

“Bellamy!” Clarke gasps. All she can seem to say is his name. He’s all around her, the only thing she sees, the only thing she smells, the only thing she feels. “Oh God, _Bellamy_!”

 

“That’s it, baby. Come for me. Yes, Clarke, _fuck_.” He holds her close as she works through her orgasm, relishing in the feeling of her walls clenching around him. Her orgasm sends him into his own, and they collapse against the wall, clutching each other as they ride out the aftershocks.

 

Bellamy eventually releases his grip, allowing her to stand—albeit shakily--- on her own two feet. Clarke buries her head in his chest and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her.

 

“Bellamy?” she says after a few minutes, peering up at him from under her eyelashes.

 

“Yeah, baby?”

 

Her fingertips trail down over the hard planes of his stomach, teasingly toying with the soft hairs of his happy trail.

 

“Will you teach me how to suck your cock?”

 

He smirks. “Princess, I’m going to teach you _everything_.”

 

* * *

_Eight Years Later_

* * *

 

Bellamy finally finds her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her flush against his chest.

 

“Hello, Mrs. Blake,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her hairline.

 

Clarke smiles against his collarbone. “Hello, Mr. Griffin.”

 

“So much for our little escape.”

 

“Don’t worry, you’ll have me all to yourself for the next ten days.” Their bags are already packed and waiting for them in their hotel room, ready for them to jet out to the airport in the morning, headed to the Bahamas for their honeymoon.

 

Bellamy shakes his head. “Not enough time.”

 

Clarke pulls back and squints up at him. “The rest of our lives?”

 

He presses his lips to the tip of her nose. “Still not enough.”

 

“Yeah,” she raises up on her tiptoes and steals a chaste kiss, “not enough for me, either.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, everyone!
> 
> I'm on tumblr as [bilexualclarke](bilexualclarke.tumblr.com) if anyone wants to chat!

**Author's Note:**

> so this hiatus sucks but hopefully bellarke smut will make it better. I'll probably add a short epilogue to this at some point, so watch out!
> 
> bug me on tumblr pls I love friends  
> [bilexualclarke](bilexualclarke.tumblr.com)


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